


the human heart

by isonlyme



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: (someone help me), Ansel Elgort's 17 Shirtless Selfies, Fluff, Gift Fic, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Language, Not A Fix-It, Not Canon Compliant, References to Depression, Theodore Decker IS Elijah Wood IN Lord of the Rings, adult boris - Freeform, adult theo - Freeform, married theo and boris, popper - Freeform, soft, theo is my flustered gay man, they deserve a happy life ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isonlyme/pseuds/isonlyme
Summary: Where Theo buys Boris an antique silver ring.
Relationships: Theodore Decker/Boris Pavlikovsky, boreo - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	the human heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tangerine_sugarhoneysweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerine_sugarhoneysweet/gifts).



> for being the writing inspiration behind this story and my rock to bounce all my crazy (and sometimes cringey) ideas off of. My human sponge, you cherub you, I thank you.

_Vena Amoris. The vein of love._ Theo stood at the cash register longer than needed, eyes fixed at the engraving on the inside of its shiny curve. The wide silver band was what Boris would like, Theo was sure of it. He had spent the Saturday afternoon cooped up in an old antiques store by their apartment, intent on finding something for him. Something he felt would resonate his feelings, remind him of Boris, no matter the lack of originality. How cliché the idea sounded. But the ring itself was if anything a subtle beauty, it’s true significance was in the engraving—much like Boris: outlandish to strangers, but still had the capability to hold an entire audience captive to the pliable undertone of his words, his beauty was in the footnotes. 

Not without letting him know in advance (“I can’t tell you where I’m going, per se. But it is for you.” Theo said in a flustered rush to exit the apartment, leaving Boris on the couch in the middle of a weekend movie marathon; a tradition they’d adopted in the months of their living together. Boris only barked out a foul slew of Russian at Theo’s backside before he left). 

The woman behind the counter—eyeing Theo’s purchase, or rather his contemplation on it—gave a restless look out the broad window, where the evening was coming to a close. She shifted her focus back to him and smirked in false composure. 

“Truly a lovely ring, sir. Priced quite, _swimmingly_ for the state it’s in. Near perfection.”

“Too right.” Theo nodded a courteous smile at the woman while taking out his wallet. He was an antiques dealer; he knew when someone was bluffing at the miraculous price range of an item. But even so, the quality itself rang true to the price—a viable purchase no matter the cost. 

“And this is a gift for your mother? Wife? Certainly a lucky lady.” She inquired with feigned interest, holding up two different types of velvet boxes. 

“My _partner_ , actually.” Theo ignored the woman’s visible distaste in response and handed her the appropriate amount of money. 

As he exited the shop, the icy New York air biting sharp and unforgiving against his cheeks, he let the anxiety trickle in for the first time at all that day. Theo had been living with Boris for several months—following the visit to Amsterdam in December—and all matters of life were beginning to settle into a regular pattern. Granted, there were still general concerns regarding Hobie’s friends—with Hobart himself relieved at Theo’s coming out, what with having to endure the strenuous years Theo spent brooding over Boris as a young boy—upon where Boris had come from and Theo’s sudden absence at dinner parties and at times evening auctions. Theo never truly enjoyed their company to begin with, their distress was not much of a concern.   


The main issue: Theo had never been the first to gift Boris with things, although there were plenty of times he had wanted to. Boris was always seeking little ways to surprise Theo with something or other—a new book, shoes, a movie he knew Theo was itching to see, Sunday mornings spent drowsy in bed. But this was foreign territory; to give Boris something like this only showed his significance and the momentous influence behind the ring itself. Theo denied the idea of it being anything of the marital quality—the entire concept of marriage unnerved him no matter who was associated—but rather an extended, soulful resemblance. The trust they shared, a bond they were only beginning to understand. A love seeming to be bound by blood: Theo dressing the messy wounds Boris’s father inflicted on him in Vegas, a tentative press of his lips to Theo’s red knuckles, seeing to Boris’s bicep, raw and bloodied. His closest friend, who knew almost every part of him; his brother, his refuge. 

But would he even accept an item such as this? Theo was latched onto this specific position, the apprehensive details that he began to fantasize in his mind. (Boris rejecting the ring entirely; huffing out a slur in Ukrainian before retreating to their room with Popper in his arms—anything but act as though he would appreciate it). 

* * *

“Ah, you are back finally! You missed the ending of that movie about the ship you like so much?” Boris’s greeting was making space on the couch for Theo along with a buttery popcorn kiss. Popper was sprawled out on the rug below them, his face buried deep within the tufts of white sheepskin. Theo made sure that the package was tucked neatly into the lowest corner of his overcoat, on the side that Boris was not next to. Buying time. 

“ _Titanic_? We’ve seen it so many times, Boris.”  


“Yes but you always liked the ending, I remember.” Boris slung an arm around him companionably, but he stood rigid. Theo was wrung out from nerves, wishing that maybe he hadn’t purchased the ring at all. 

Boris tapped his forehead with the pad of his finger. A childhood gesture: _what’s up?_

“Everything okay? You seem jumpy, Potter. And won’t tell me where you have gone for the past hours!” 

Theo had memorized what he was to say on the walk home but the words were caught in his throat.

“What?” Boris turned so that his face was directly in front of his, Theo could notice the slight blush on his bright cheeks, “Is not..You know, _that_ type of thing. _Not_ _Для спальни?_ Not..that type of gift.” He wouldn’t meet Theo’s eyes—and for good reason, because he felt the color flood his own face before he stammered out a response. 

“N-No. It’s not like _that_.” They kept their physical life very private; hardly going as far as to hold hands in front of Hobie. The statement alone made Theo even more uneasy, concluding that it wasn’t a wise decision from the start—if this was how it was going to go. The uncomfortable silence stilled until Boris spoke up:

“Well, tell me! Don’t leave me here wondering and staring, Potter.” His eyes were like orbs, boring into his skull—still able to retrieve the most minute amount of information from only a single gaze—until Theo relaxed against his embrace. With a shaky hand he retrieved the package from his inside pocket. 

Boris peered over his shoulder at the leather box in Theo’s palm, his dark hair obstructing his curious eyes that still resembled a child’s. 

“Here.” Theo handed it to him—wanting to rid himself of the ring completely out of fear he would drop it or blurt out everything waiting on his tongue. But as Boris took his fingers and pried the lid upward, Theo burst into eager narrative: 

“It’s really interesting. I spent the entire day there and only found it a few hours ago—see the engraving? That’s latin. There’s this ancient belief that there is a vein connected from your ring finger directly to your heart. Having a ring there—well, having pressure there—is believed to increase vitality and well-being. That is, if you want to wear it. You don’t have to. It’s totally okay if you-“ Boris put a sudden hand to his mouth.

“ _Zamknij zię_! I am looking!” Boris held the ring by thumb and forefinger, inspecting the tiny words etched inside. Theo sat watching him with a bewildered frown. 

“How much was this?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Theo said timidly. 

“ _Tak_. Looks expensive.” Boris slid the ring onto his right hand—to Theo’s puzzlement, he may have worn Kitsey’s engagement ring for a few months but definitely remembered it being on his left hand. The band fit him well; though Theo ignored the fact that it went against Boris’s typical gold jewelry and instead admired the way it stood out on his light skin. 

“In Russia—well most countries but America—they wear the rings on their right hand. Because is more orthodox, I’d say. Among other things.” Boris commented, still turning his finger to watch the glinting letters in the light. 

“Does that mean you don’t want it? Because it was expensive?” Theo made an effort to hide the disappointment in his voice. 

He turned to stare at Theo. “Of course I will wear it. I want it. You go out of your way to gift me with something like _this_ , and you expect me to hate it?” 

Theo wiped his sweaty palms along the sides of his pants, concealing any agitated movements. “Well, yes. I was afraid you would overthink it.”

Boris laughed blithely. “Me? Overthinking? I believe you are talking about yourself, _Моя птица.”_

“You know what I mean.” Theo couldn’t help but blush freely at the idea, at the impossibility of that delighted road. Was Boris so nonchalant about the entire ordeal? The preconceived notion of wearing a ring? A ring, symbolizing the health of his own heart? His love? 

“Yes. Is more romantic, no? The meaning?” He traced the shape of it with a fingertip. They were quiet for a moment, statues unmoving until Boris reached down; he took Theo’s clenched fist and loosened his hand to press a lingering kiss to his open palm. The action was new and startling, such an old-fashioned gesture—still moving in its gentle intimacy—that Theo could only stare in awe and flustered abandon at him. 

Then he laced his fingers with Theo’s and turned to face the movie as if nothing happened. His ringed hand flipped through channels while the other grazed along Theo’s knuckles. Theo should have expected as much from him; the unpredictable nature—that was partially due to the language barrier, and Boris’s lack of effort when it came to English, even as an adult—he still adored but found it frustrating at the same time, especially now.

“I’ll never be able to figure you out, you know that?” Theo chuckled while wrapping his other arm across Boris’s shoulders, settling into his side. “I give you the antique equivalent of a wedding ring essentially, and what do you do? Yell at me in Polish and then kiss me.” 

“Wedding ring? You are the one who didn’t want to call it that.” Boris said philosophically, dark eyes on the television. “And besides, I did not kiss you. Was not _formalny_.” 

“What are you saying?” He leaned closer to stare at Boris’s unreadable eyes. With that he grabbed Theo’s face—with him hyperaware of the ring’s cold metal pressed to his cheek—and kissed him with such sweet and bracing fervor that Theo slipped into the feeling of urgency in his lips, kissing him back. They parted slightly, so close they were breathing the same air when Boris spoke in a brief exhale: 

“I overthink nothing. I just do. This is how I am. And now, with you giving me this ring, all I can do is act. And this is more of symbolic? Yes? I hope I am saying this correctly.” Boris’s eyes flickered from Theo’s toward his hand on his shoulder. Holding him in not only a literal embrace but an emotional one, with Theo edging closer to hear what he had to say. 

“It is symbolic of our relationship—obviously. But I feel like the word “relationship” is kind of..cheap? There are better words for us. We have both been to Hell and back, yet we still find each other! And Potter, there is only one person I can truly be myself with, not having to speak even. That is _you_ , Theo. You are like my other half. And we—members of this world—are going to play it off as a ‘good relationship?’ All this hardship and for what? I think it means more. Much stronger, _prawdziwy_...” Boris trailed off, contemplating his own words.

“..Like _soulmates_.” He finished, taking his right hand and placing it against Theo’s chest. He felt his stomach warm at this—welcoming the fierce pang of affection burning in his stomach—at their partnership that was truer than anything else Theo had witnessed. Just as when they were kids: inseparable. A trip across the country, the stolen painting, over ten years of disconnection and a near death experience could not keep them apart—in this world or another—and it was apparent to them both: the difficultly to imagine what else could keep them away, after what they had been through. 

Theo grinned at him and covered his heart with hands as well. “ _Soulmates_.” 

**Author's Note:**

> words//:
> 
> -Для спальни?: for bedroom?  
> -shut up : zamknij zię!  
> -tak: yes  
> -Моя птица: my bird  
> -prawdziwy: true


End file.
